


None of it Mattered

by wrlfgang



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, F/M, One Shot, Romance, Short & Sweet, Summer, Summerteen Romance, Sweet, Teen Romance, Teenagers, scorose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrlfgang/pseuds/wrlfgang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of it mattered anymore because here was Scorpius in her tiny room on a humid day, kissing her warm and kind and that was all that mattered now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	None of it Mattered

It had been summer too long and time felt wasted and nervous. It had been a Ministry event, in the end, that had gotten both her parents out of the house at the same time. All summer, Quidditch matches had taken her dad from the house and book signings had stolen away her mum but never at the same time. Until today. Until the Ministry invited them to charity gala and Hermione couldn’t resist. Rose had a different invitation on her mind and the soft knock on the door made her nerves light on fire again.

She swung open the heavy oaken door and an inescapable smile split her lips, “Hi,” Rose breathed, breath stolen at the sight.

“Do you know it’s been two months?” he asked, a dangerous grin tripping across his face, “Two months since I’ve seen you.” She knew, of course, that it had been two months because she couldn’t stop thinking about two months ago when he’d hugged her goodbye and promised to write. He had written but letters didn’t compare to his snowy blonde hair and sharp gray eyes.

Rose laughed, bubbling and overjoyed, thoughts already scrambling around his dark jeans instead of school trousers, “Yeah, I know it’s been two months. Come on in,” and she stepped aside to watch him cross the threshold.

It was terribly precarious, their little dance. Knees that bumped softly as they sat beside each other during school dinners. Smiles that didn’t fade even after the joke had ended. The side of his face an inch from hers as they compared notes. It was a choreographed mess of thoughts that focused solely on the importance of a six-year friendship. They looked at each other when the other looked down and they felt stars jump from their lips at the thought of a kiss but they stayed in their bubble and they stayed in their dance.

Scorpius followed Rose into the cramped kitchen, cluttered with papers and documents that always needed signing. Rose waved a hand around carelessly, “My mum,” she said and left it there for she knew Scorpius already would have guessed.

She grabbed a kettle and filled it from the tap, “Tea?” she asked him, already putting the kettle on the stove.

“I’d love some,” he answered, far too gentle for her to forget about the warmth of his arms when they’d said goodbye two months ago. “Where’s Hugo?” he asked her, sitting down at the table, careful hands resting on its surface.

“The Potters,” Rose answered, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, “he and Lily have been practicing all summer. Lily wants to be captain and Hugo just likes the game.”

“You remember when you wanted to be captain?” Scorpius asked, lips tipping up at the edges.

Rose rolled her eyes, “Yes, I do, but—”

“—it’s not practical,” Scorpius finished, shaking his head, “I know, Rose, I know. I hope you don’t regret it, I’ve watched you play. I’ve seen your eyes catch fire when your bat collides with the ball.”

She thought about it and she thought about Scorpius sitting in the stands, the only Slytherin wearing blue and bronze, “Maybe I will,” she said, “maybe I’ll regret it. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter right now.” It mattered, of course, as often do the things we say don’t matter but Rose brushed the topic off the table like a crumb.

Scorpius considered pushing it but he watched Rose carefully pour tea into mugs and didn’t want to interrupt the way the air had decided to slow down. Oh it was so quiet in that small home and Rose felt it in her toes and her eyes and she wanted to pause the world.

“Rose,” Scorpius started, breath faltering and hands enveloped around the warm mug Rose had passed him.

She cut him off, voice off-kilter and wrong, “Do you want a, er, tour? Of the house? Since you haven’t been here before?”

“Sure,” he sighed, pushing up from the table and following Rose out.

She walked up the stairs, creaky and resounding, and pointed to the right, “that’s the bathroom,” she pointed in front of her, “there’s Hugo’s room,” she kept walking down the hall.

Scorpius glanced around, wishing the world felt a little less normal than it did right then. He followed.

“And here,” Rose opened a door, letting it swing open easily, “is my room.” She stepped inside, Scorpius just behind her. It was breezy and subtle, much like Rose. He loved it, he saw her in every centimeter of the room. She set her mug down on her desk, vaguely hearing Scorpius doing the same.

Rose turned around, ready to excuse the small size of her room, and his lips hit hers, warm and comforting and everything she’d thought he’d be. Arms around her waist, their goodbye hug resonating in her thoughts, and legs shuffling together. He was so remarkably familiar and Rose was nearly surprised her lips hadn’t felt his before.

Scorpius pulled away, just enough to speak, “Is this okay?” he asked, gentle oh so terribly gentle. She nodded quickly, hands sweet and careful in his hair, and pulled him back pulled him back into her.

It wasn’t fireworks but neither cared at all. Fireworks felt boring and common but the warmth and wonder that filled them overflowing was everything. Scorpius could have sworn the sun was pouring through their veins.

Slowly, his hand slipped up the back of her shirt, cool and barely there. Rose smiled against his lips, she wanted to be in his arms for a hundred years. Dangerous lips trailing down her throat, snow-blonde hair tickling her jaw. She loved it awfully and she wanted it more and more.

It was a dance they’d danced too long but his lips found hers and there was no choreography anymore. No practice at tipping his hips to meet hers and no expectations about the sounds Rose made when he pressed her to the bed. She didn’t know if she’d wrapped her legs around him correctly but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore because here was Scorpius in her tiny room on a humid day, kissing her warm and kind and that was all that mattered now.

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno, just some cutesy Scorose. Enjoy xx


End file.
